Chapter 40
Bayleigh
Air won’t stay in my lungs. It keeps slipping out in these shaky little bursts while the space beneath my sternum tightens, like invisible hands pressing down until I’m sure something inside me will crack.
I fold forward without meaning to, like my body is trying to protect what’s already breaking. Thinking about them hurts most of all.
They lied to me. Made me feel like I was wanted.
But they knew all along about this meeting and never once uttered a word to me.
Was this all a game? Their feelings toward me felt so real.
Fuck, they were masterful in their acting.
Pretending to care just to make me the butt of their sick joke. Benton was right. I was a fool.
I don’t remember the drive home, but somehow I managed to pull into the driveway without crashing. Without hurting someone or myself with blissful unawareness. The moment I see the familiar vehicle parked there, my stomach sinks.
Benton’s home.
Of course he is. Why wouldn’t the universe throw more fuel on the flame?
I already know what he’s going to say without even seeing him sign or reading his lips. How he warned me. How he told me this is exactly what would happen. That Korbin, Lincoln and Milton are exactly the assholes he professed they were.
Just the thought of the lecture he’s going to give me makes my throat tighten, the ache behind my eyes flaring all over again.
My eyes drift up, catching my reflection in the rearview mirror, and I hate what I see: swollen eyes, mascara smudging at the corners, cheeks blotchy from crying too hard, too long.
He’s going to know. There’s no way I can walk in the house and have him see me and not know that my heart is breaking.
I wipe the tears away with the back of my sleeve, trying to erase the evidence, run my fingers through my hair, smoothing it out.
At the same time, I’m trying to force myself to take steady breaths.
But the moment I step out of the car and walk up the driveway, I feel the facade I tried to build up cracking into pieces.
As I climb the porch steps on shaky legs, I think about turning and leaving. But I don’t. I open the door—and he’s right there.
Benton.
Standing in the entryway like he’s been waiting the entire time. His arms are crossed at first, jaw set, eyes guarded in that big-brother, don’t make me say I told you so.
But the second he really looks at me, everything in him softens. His face falls. His shoulders drop.
“Come here,” his lips move as he signs, just before opening his arms.
That one act undoes me completely. The fact that he cares more about comforting me than gloating.
I don’t walk to him. I run. A broken, desperate sprint straight into his chest, burying myself in the safety of his arms, the one place I don’t have to pretend, don’t have to be strong. I’m able to be broken.
He wraps his arms around me instantly. Protecting me. Like he can shield me from everything that just shattered.
And the moment his chin rests on the top of my head, the dam breaks again.
He just holds me, giving me the comfort I need. I don’t know how long we stand there, but he finally pulls away, takes my hands in his and leads me over to the couch.
“Is this about the press release that’s all over the internet and television?” he asks, my eyes focused on his hands when I see his lips start to move.
There’s no way I can look him in the face. I don’t sign. I don’t speak. I just nod.
“I told you Korbin wasn’t the one for you. If he was, then there would’ve never been a meeting. I did have some hope for his brother, for Grady. But it seems they’re just as bad.”
Stop. It’s my fault. For believing that someone wanted me. That for once I was a first choice.
“Bay, that’s what you don’t get. You’re better than any omega out there.
If you’re not the first choice, then they’re stupid.
You’re smart, beautiful, funny and have aspirations for your life.
Not to mention you try to see the best in everyone, even when there’s not anything good in them.
” He reaches out, cupping my chin as he tilts my head upward so I have to look him in the face.
“If they don’t see that, then screw them.
I’m sorry your heart is breaking. But it’s better now than later when you’ve invested more in them. ”
I try to say something, but I can’t. Benton doesn’t say anything else; he just holds me. There’s no lecture. Just brotherly comfort.
We sit like that for what seems like hours, but I know it’s not that long.
He finally shifts under me, and I sit up.
You want some coffee?
Yes. Please.
He stands up, pulling his phone from his pocket, eyebrow raised at the number, and answers. I don’t understand what he mumbles, but he immediately hangs up, gives me a wink and heads to the kitchen.
I pick up my phone and see a string of messages in my group chat with the guys. I don’t even open them. There’s nothing they can say that will change how I feel. They probably know the announcement went out, and they’re trying to cover their asses. A little too late for that.
I drop the phone onto the cushion beside me, pulling my feet up under me and just stare off in the direction of the door. I’m lost in a haze of my own thoughts. I don't even notice that Benton’s sat down beside me until I see him lean forward, placing the cup on the coffee table.
He waits for me to look up at him to start signing.
I need to go to practice. But I can cancel if you need me.
My head starts shaking before I ever respond to him.
No. I’ll be okay. I’m going to take a nap or take a walk.
Okay. But if you need me. Message me. Come to the rink. Whatever.
He leans in, giving me another hug before standing and heading toward the door. It’s then I notice his bag on the floor. Was he heading out when I came in? Is he late already for practice?
My eyes drift from my coffee, back over to my phone.
My hands move on autopilot, picking it up.
I open the PR page for the Scorpions, and my heart drops.
There are pictures now. The three of them walking into the building.
Of the matchmaker sitting at her desk with open files in front of them, the pictures blurred out for privacy.
It’s nice how they’re allotted that, yet I was on an innocent date, and my face was plastered everywhere.
I should stop there, but I keep scrolling.
There are pictures of other members of the team standing happily with omegas.
That’s going to be Lincoln, Milton and Korbin soon.
I gulp hard. Holding back the tears.
I drop my phone in my lap, but the Scorpion PR post keeps replaying in my mind.
Milton Grady and Korbin Brooks meet with renowned Omega-Match certified partner Marilyn Hart to discuss future compatibility prospects.
Every word feels like a knife twisting deeper into my heart.
But it wasn't just the two of them. It was Lincoln too. That’s the betrayal that burns the most.
My mind keeps going over my conversation with James from the other night.
Him telling me I should ask Lincoln and Milton to help me through my heat.
Even Korbin. I just want to laugh at myself for ever believing that they were really invested in me.
To want them. I’m not even their scent match.
It’s not like it was ever going to end well for me.
Once they found the person they were meant to be with, I’d just be tossed to the curb like yesterday’s garbage.
It’s time I face it. All I ever was to the three of them was a placeholder omega until their real futures lined up. I was just someone na?ve and available. Not to mention the little jab it would have at my brother, Benton.
My phone buzzes again—a text from Lincoln. Why is he even trying to keep up this ruse?
I see the last one in the preview.
Lincoln: Please answer.
Lincoln: Babe?
Nope, he doesn’t deserve an ounce of my time.
Instead of answering, I turn the device face-down on the coffee table and lay down on the couch, curling into myself, fingers shaking, lips trembling, sniffling.
I keep telling myself they’re just being polite. Just checking in. They’re good men. Kind men. Men who saved me when I needed saving. Men who kissed me like I mattered for one night. But that’s all it was—a night. A moment.
The thoughts go on repeating in my brain as I try to convince myself of anything else other than they used me. Betrayed me. Broke my heart.
Them caring and loving me is a mistake I shouldn’t have let myself believe.
I close my eyes and drift off to sleep, only to be startled awake by someone shaking my shoulder. The hand is heavy, yet familiar. His scent wraps around me, coconut.
James.
The only man other than my father and brother that I can count on. Too bad he’s gay. Just the thought of seeing a vagina, much less touching one, has him gagging.
He doesn’t pull away to find out what’s wrong; he just holds me tighter, his hand rubbing my back, trying to comfort me. He doesn’t rush me. James just lets me fall apart in his arms until I pull away.
He signs, not even bothering with talking.
I saw the news report. Did you know?
Shaking my head, I begin to sign everything to him in a frantic rush: my conversation with the guys, the PR post, how stupid I feel.
I see the way James’ brows furrow as he processes everything. He doesn’t rush to respond, or cut in. He lets me finish, and only then does he answer.
Bayleigh, I love you more than anything.
And I’ll always have your back. We can ride at dawn to roast those alpha knots to a crisp.
But something doesn’t seem right. The way they were with you, to then just run off and meet with the matchmaker and accept the omega they’re offering to them on a silver platter?
But they did. I insist. They didn’t even tell me they had a meeting. They just hid it from me. Even Lincoln. That’s what hurts the most. We had the strongest connection.
Yes. And they are in the wrong for that. But it doesn’t make sense. Talk to them. Let them explain. Then if you still feel the same way, cut them loose.
I’ll think about it. I just want to be alone right now.
Bayleigh.
I take hold of his hands, stopping him.
“Please.” I use my voice, knowing it will make a greater impact than any signing.
His eyes tear, and he nods his head. I love that he doesn’t make a big production of me speaking. He knew I could. It’s just never something I’ve done around him. Until now.
“I’m going to go. But if you need me, I’ll be back. Just message me.”
“Thank you,” slips hoarsely across my lips.
“Bayleigh. Just talk to them. Give them a chance to explain.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. As much as I want to let them explain, the pain that will come with the truth is unbearable to think about.
My eyes stay glued on him until he steps out the door, shutting it behind him.
Now that he’s gone and I’m alone again, the pressure builds in my chest until I feel like I’m drowning in it.
I need air. Space. Quiet. Somewhere where I’m not accessible for anyone to walk in on me.
Where I don’t have to retell the story to anyone.
Standing up, I pick up my purse and keys from the hook by the door.
Benton must have hung them up there. I don’t remember doing it.
I don’t have a destination of where I want to go.
I just drive aimlessly through the city, while trying to clear my head.
But everything I see reminds me of them.
The twinkling lights in the bakery window remind me of Lincoln’s smile.
The older couple sitting on a park bench, holding hands, remind me of Milton’s softness.
Every stoplight hits me with the memory of Korbin’s devastating protectiveness.
It hurts to even breathe their names. When I see the sign for the town park, I decide to go there. I don’t get out of the car, just pull into a spot and sit in the empty parking lot. Only then do I let myself break down—again—crying silently, shoulders shaking, gasping for air.
My phone continues to go off. But I don’t answer any of them. I don’t even message anyone to tell them where I’m at.
Maybe it’s better it happened this way. Milton, Korbin, and Lincoln are better off without me.
They deserve someone they don’t have to accommodate.
They should be able to talk freely and not worry about if they are positioned where I can read their lips or be with someone that they have to learn how to sign for.
Them doing this now, and me not responding, is just saving us all from them having to cut me loose later.
I’ve sat here so long, drowning in my own misery that I don’t realize that the sky is starting to get darker and the street lights are kicking on. Turning on the car, I back out of the parking spot and head home. I don’t want Benton and my parents to worry about me more than they already do.
The drive home doesn’t calm me, just makes my nerves worse. I’m going to have to tell my parents what happened. But when I pull into my driveway, the air freezes in my lungs.
Standing on my front lawn are three silhouettes under the porch light. They each turn when my headlights flash on them.
Lincoln, Milton, and Korbin.
All three of them. Waiting. Shoulders squared, eyes sharp, expressions torn between fear and fury and something achingly protective.
I think about running. But I don’t. Instead, I get out and start walking toward them.
Lincoln steps forward first, signing, Are you okay?
Milton’s holding a bag of takeout like he’s prepared to sit on my steps all night, waiting for me. Korbin doesn’t move, but his jaw flexes hard when he sees my red eyes.
I don’t know what to do. Sprint past them and lock myself in the house? Turn around and rush back to my car and leave? Apologize? That last one I’m not sure about, because I’ve done nothing wrong. They did.
But then Lincoln says the words, “Don’t shut us out.”
I don’t know why, but something inside me cracks wide open.
All I can do is stand frozen on the walkway, heart pounding, tears slipping down my cheeks, while the three men I thought I'd lost don’t appear like they’re leaving.